Sunday, December 11, 2005

The run up to Christmas and knitting do not mix

Tis not the season to be jolly – no sirree. I don’t want to carp during the season of happiness (well actually you just know I am going to), but Christmas pays havoc with my stash. I am slowly losing the plot moving yarn, and then parcels into where the yarn was, then moving the yarn again and making way for other parcels, or decanting parcels into collaborative parcels and oh it is all too much, this is eating into valuable knitting time of which I have precious little at the moment. The fact that I haven’t felt inclined to pick up my knitting this weekend despite good intentions is besides the point, if I had felt like knitting I would not have had the time or been able to find the project.

Actually it has brought back memories of when I was young at home and my paternal grandmother would come for Christmas day much to my mother’s ill-suppressed fury. Grannie had gone slightly dotty by the time I was 12 (something to do with it being the only coping mechanism for dealing with my then recently departed, very cantankerous grandfather – vague waftiness completely nulified his Alf-Garnet-type rantings). Anyway at Christmas she would often sit at the head of the table floating in and out of our familial orbit (or at least that is how she played it) admiring the going-ons on board ship, as she was always convinced she was on a cruise when she came to our house (strangely the ship had summer-yellowed lawns with parched leggy petunias in the flower beds and was surrounded by the Port Hills that were bleached with heat and now and then they caught fire – which is odd in the middle of a nameless ocean). Grannie however was not conned – this was a cruise and we were floating gently towards Lord-alone knows where, with the odd swell of the boat brought on by pink fizzy plonk that went with the inappropriately large roast dinner. After admiring the trappings of the cruise “Nice service, but that waitress is a little surly y’know – she keeps giving me the evil eye….” (that would be my fizzing mother - glaring silently at my helpless father pinned between wife and mother duties), she would then get up and for some unknown reason begin to rearrange the furniture…..

I feel very close to my late Grannie with all this bag and knitting shifting.


Blogger Stephanie said...

Wow, what a story, what a Grannie! Unfortunately, there is never enough time to knit and when there is time to knit your sometimes too tired.

12:29 AM  
Blogger Stephanie said...

Merry Christmas!

8:19 PM  

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